#TO EVERYONE WHO SEES THIS I LOVE YOU TO PIECES

[miihho]

can do headcannons for Myung-gi? Thank you 😭😭

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) sfw

Myung-gi / Player 333

—HE'S THE KIND OF GUY who found himself in fights more often than he’d like to admit. His past was a tangled mess of mistakes and choices that led him down this path. Most times, when he was beaten down, no one cared enough to stop. They’d walk by, eyes averted, pretending not to see him lying there, bruised and exhausted. The pain was familiar, but it was something he had learned to endure alone. So when he found himself on the ground once again, bloodied and sore, he didn’t expect anything to change. He didn’t expect someone to stop and help.

But then, through the blur of his vision, he saw you. Standing there, glowing like something out of a dream, your eyes full of concern. “Are you alright?” you asked, your voice soft, but it was filled with genuine concern. He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear the daze.

“Yeah…” he muttered, wincing slightly as he grabbed your hand and tried to stand. “It didn’t hurt that much.” He forced a weak smile, brushing the dust off his clothes, but his body was screaming from the blows he’d taken. You didn’t look convinced, your eyes scanning him with a frown. “You have bruises everywhere,” you said softly, taking in the sight of his battered form. “You need help, can i treat you?"

He wanted to refuse. He wanted to push you away and tell you it wasn’t worth it, that he was just someone who always ended up in situations like this. But your steady gaze stopped him. He nodded, letting you lead him away from the scene, knowing this would probably be the first time someone would care enough to make sure he wasn’t left to bleed out in a corner.He didn’t expect much—just a quick fix for the bruises. But as you carefully cleaned his cuts and bruises, your touch gentle and your voice soft, something inside him shifted.

The way you didn’t rush, the way you took your time, treating him with more care than anyone ever had, started to break down the walls he’d built around himself. His body still ached, but there was a warmth in his chest, a quiet comfort he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t falling in love with you right away. But in that moment, as you tended to his wounds and your eyes met his, something began to grow, slowly and quietly—an unfamiliar feeling, one that made him want to stay just a little longer.

—He’s the type of guy who keeps a distance from everyone, always a little cold, a little aloof, because it’s easier that way. He’s learned to build walls around himself, to guard his emotions, keeping people at arm’s length so he won’t get hurt. It’s become second nature—familiar and safe. But when it comes to you, everything shifts. You become the exception to the rules, the one who manages to break through the armor he’s so carefully crafted.

In your presence, the ice that’s kept him safe for so long begins to melt. The walls that once seemed impenetrable start to crumble, piece by piece, as he finds himself opening up in ways he never thought possible. It’s a vulnerability he’s not used to, one that both terrifies and comforts him in equal measure. For the first time, he doesn’t have to pretend. With you, he can just be. And it’s that warmth, that quiet shift in his soul, that makes him realize—maybe letting you in wasn’t as frightening as he once thought.

—He's type of guy who’d get nervous around you, never having interacted with a girl properly before. This whole thing was new to him. He would rehearse a simple greeting in front of the mirror, repeatedly stumbling over his words.

"Hello, nice to meet you again," he'd say, practicing until it felt right.

But the moment he saw you, standing there, his mind went blank. Flustered, he blurted out, "Meet hello again."

His face flushed red with embarrassment, and without a word, he quickly walked off, leaving you laughing softly at his awkward charm.

—Hes the kind of guy who would drop to his knees with tear-streaked cheeks, begging for another chance. The kind of guy who would plead, his voice trembling with desperation, asking you to take him back.

— He’s the kind of guy who melts under your touch, leaning into the soft strokes of your fingers as they weave through his hair. With you perched on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, he looks up at you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the world. His eyes, brimming with warmth, trace every feature of your face, and his smile—soft, tender, overflowing with affection—speaks the words his heart can’t contain. To him, this moment is everything: your closeness, your comfort, the quiet intimacy of being held by the one he loves.

—He’s the kind of guy who would drop everything at a moment’s notice just to make you happy. If you told him you wanted your favorite food, he wouldn’t just order it—he’d make sure it came from the best place, double-checking the details so it’s exactly how you like it. If you said you wanted something more, he’d move mountains to find it, his every action steeped in quiet devotion.

—He’s the kind of guy who would hold your bag without hesitation, tie your shoelaces if they came undone, and memorize all the little things that make you smile. If you said you were cold, he’d wrap his jacket around you without a second thought, even if he ended up freezing. If you called him in the middle of the night, needing someone to talk to, he’d show up at your door, no matter how far or inconvenient it was. If you mentioned something you like, he’d make a mental note and surprise you with it later, just to see the joy in your eyes. He’d stay up late if you needed him, wake up early to make your mornings easier, and cancel his own plans just to be there when you need him most.

For him, your happiness is worth everything. He doesn’t just listen to your words—he treasures them, acting on them like they’re his life’s purpose, because loving you isn’t a chore; it’s his greatest joy.

—He’s the kind of guy who pays attention to the tiniest details about you. Like the songs you hum when you’re happy, the exact shade of your favorite color. He remembers your birthday without needing a reminder, but he also knows the little anniversaries you don’t expect him to, like the day you first met or the first time you smiled at him in that special way.

He’d go out of his way to buy you things that match your favorite color—not just big gifts but the little ones, like a keychain he spotted at the store or a pen because he remembered you needed one. He’d surprise you with your favorite snacks on bad days and bring you flowers that match the hues you love, just to see your face light up.

—He’s the kind of guy who listens intently when you talk, even if it’s about something small, and he brings it up later to let you know he was paying attention. He’d notice when you’re feeling off, even if you try to hide it, and he’d do whatever it takes to make you feel better—whether it’s running to get your comfort food, wrapping you in a blanket, or just holding you until the world feels a little less overwhelming.

To him, it’s the small things that matter most because those details are what make you you, and he wants to love every single one of them.

—He's the kind of guy who stumbles over his words when you get too close, as if your presence is too much for him to handle. You don't realize how his heart races, a frantic rhythm he can't control, every beat echoing the weight of your nearness. He tries to pull away, but it's impossible—you're the only thing that makes him feel alive.

—He's kind of guy who would stay away from you for months, not because he wanted to, but because he believed it was for your safety. He worried endlessly that if anyone saw you with him, they’d make you a target—hurt you just to get to him. The thought of putting you in danger was unbearable, so he chose the distance, even if it tore him apart inside.

—Myung gi is the kind of guy who’d make you believe he has pure intentions, but the truth is far darker. He wants you all to himself—every moment of every day, your laughter, your smile, your touch. It's all his in his mind. The thought of anyone else having even a fraction of you fills him with jealousy, and he’ll do anything to keep it that way. You’re his everything, and in his eyes, no one else deserves a piece of you.

—He’s the kind if guy who secretly craves being treated like a precious little one, wanting to be praised for being good, his heart swelling at every word of affection you give him. When you look at him with that soft, loving gaze, calling him "baby" and showering him with overly sweet pet names, something inside him melts. It's not just the words, it's the way you care for him—like he's fragile, like he’s yours to protect. He acts tough on the outside, but deep down, he’s soft for you. Your attention, your affection—it’s everything to him, and he’s more than willing to be the one who melts under your love. He’d give anything to hear you speak to him like that forever.

(he's so IWBWIWHWIWJ😭😭☹️👊🏻)

[minnietrys]

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU DONT KNOW HOW I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS

YOUR SO GOODDDD

I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF you could write something where player 120 met fem! Reader in a bar and then they make out XD

I just want to read smuts about this woman

Pookie I got you. I started brainstorming when I saw this so I have multiple ideas for this so I just started writing and let it lead, I did end up giving them a past so hopefully you like it!

So with my further do I present:

Is it casual now?

◯ Cho Hyun-ju x Fem! Reader

△ Alt! Universe- You and Hyunju are kinda like friend with benefits but you to be more

▢ oral(f!receiving), fingering, pet names, rough, kinda made her a bit toxic…2k words

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Okay so this is my first ever smut and I just gathered all the info and tips I learned from reading smut so hopefully it’s good and if it is expect more soon :p

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‘Casual’ that’s what you and Hyunju were according to any of your friends that asked. But oh boy how that hurts you in every way.

Was everything she has done to you that casual? Was spending hot hours of the night together that casual to her? Was all the marks she left behind that casual? Was that sore morning feeling she left that casual?

Oh how that word casual was used so wrong in this situation. 

But here you are doing nothing but staring at her from across the table. With a drink in your hand trying to wash away that stupid word from your head. Maybe even trying to enjoy the celebration as causal friends.

“Unnie? Are you okay?” youngmi words snap you out of your train of thought. “Oh yes, sorry youngmi. What happened?” You asked with a complete sorry tone.

“Ah nothing, but we were just about to cut the cake! Also you look out of it? Are you sure you’re still up to continue celebrating?” she asked with those adorable sincere doe eyes. To be honest you always seen youngmi as younger sister but didn’t really like that her and Hyunju were also close. It made you feel green inside.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss the celebration of your 21st! It’s a once in a life time and the only day I can watch you get wasted for the first time” you laughed out while she gasped “are you sure it isn’t you who going to be getting wasted” youngmi said in a teasing tone.

“Ha ha ha your so funny, that only happened once” you said in a defensive tone with a pout but you notice someone staring at you from your peripheral vision. You felt your mouth go dry and your body tense up.

So you decide to look back at her but there she is staring at you a smirk looking you up and down like your some kinda of piece of candy. Did she just lick her lip, oh how you felt your legs start to shake.

“Uh excuse me youngmi, I have to the restroom.” You excuse yourself but not without feeling someone eyes follow you.

Once you finally reach the restroom all you could do was sigh. Maybe you were just a girl she banged but how she treats you makes you feel different.

Gripping the sink you take a deep breath and hear the door open. Looking up into the mirror you see her. She walking up to you, slowly pushing your hair that covered your neck to aside. You feel her breath on your neck making you release an airy moan.

“You know it’s not fair. You all over everyone else here but not daring to look at me.” She grips your hips pulling them back to met hers. “It’s quite rude actually. One day you’re in my bed and the next you ignore me, come on baby that no way to act.” She says in that pouting tone while she bites your ear in a teasing way.

Turning you to face her, your arms automatically move to around her neck waiting for her next action. But she just keeps moving her eyes from between your eyes and lips with that damn smirk that makes you weak to your knees.

Grabbing your chin she pulls you forward so your lips would met. A never ending battle with your mouths start. Tongue against tongue, tongue moving from in and out of your mouth, you felt like you were going wild.

Till she grips your neck to pull you away. You notice the string of saliva that connected your lips together. The hand around your neck gets your attention but is easily lost when she squeezed your neck making you whine while your eyes round back.

“Wow, you really know how to win a girl back with that face and noise don’t you” she laughs out with a smirk but not daring to move her hand not when she has you where she wants you.

“Mhm—please…” you manage to get out of your mouth. “Please? Huh you asking for something but I don’t know what you want. Your going have to use more words baby” oh how you hate when she does this, she knows what you want.

Gasping out “you..please…unnie” you start gripping her hair. “Aw the baby wants her unnie” Hyunju says in a teasing pout while she put her knee between your legs making you moan out and grip her harder.

“Okay here what I want you to do, your going to walk your pretty self to my car and wait patiently as I go tell the others we are heading out, if you don’t you won’t get anything from me got it.” She said sternly while looping a piece of your hair around her finger and staring at you like she ready to eat you.

Whining as she lets you go “ah come on, walk or I just go back and sit down but judging by the look on your face you won’t want that.” Ugh she just keeps pushing all the buttons that make you feel so weak. 

Slowly walking away with a stumble from your shaking legs you make it to the door but not without turning once more to look at her with that begging expression. All she does is smirk in return and wave in a teasing way.

You’re not really sure how you did it but you managed to make it to her car, well with a few strange glances on the way. Getting into the passenger seat you fully take in what happened.

Shit I’ve fallen for it again… you thought as you threw your head back on the head rest. Why couldn’t you catch a break with this women were you really that stupid, yo— your thoughts get cut off when you heard the driver side open.

You felt a hand grip your chin forcing you to look at her, “come on, what can unnie do for you?” again with that hungry look in her eyes while she lets her thumb rub and play with your bottom lip. You couldn’t help it you started sucking on her thumb while trying your best to give her those ‘fuck me’ eyes.

Groaning she pulls her thumb out of your mouth and starts attacking your lips with hers. You pulled her in not getting enough of her taste it’s so addictive. Suddenly you feel one of her hands squeezing your breast over your top, you couldn’t help but like out a moan causing her tongue to dart straight into your mouth.

Pulling her away “Unnine..please f-fuck me..please” you let out with a crying while a few tears row down due to the need for pleasure. “You see baby that all you had to do, use your words” Hyunju says while wiping away the tears and gives you a small peck on your cheek.

“Now do me one huge favor and recline your seat back” she said with a sweet smile like what you guys weren’t about to do something freaky in her car.

Once doing so her hand suddenly gripped your thigh pulling your shut legs apart causing a moan to exit you due to the sudden action. “You look so pretty when you’re turning into a mess but you’re eternal when you’re a full mess” she whispered as she pushed your skirt up exposing the wet mess hiding under causing her to bite her lip.

You felt yourself tremble as she slowly started to trace the lines of your folds over your undies and pressing sweet kissing on your neck causing you to whine. But you started to push into her hand hard looking for the sweet friction “Ahah what did I say about being impatient baby..” she warns as she was taps at where you clit is located.

“I-I am sorry, I just need you so so so bad unnie please” you cry out trying to beg for her to fully touch you.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely but you better not start crying when you can’t handle it” she warned as she pushed you panties to the side and finally felt her thumb meet your clit making you let out a relived moan.

Your finally get that sweet sweet pressure you be looking for all night but the sudden feeling of two fingers entering you cause your legs to shut close.

“Hey I thought you were going to behave-” she growled out as she forced your legs back open with her other hand causing you get even more wetter. “Good now be a good girl and take what I give you” she said as she gave a rough thrust causing your hands to fly to hers, gripping it as if she going to tone down her thrust.

Moan after moan that’s what she pulling out of you and how that makes her movement go faster.

“Mhm! Unnnie…please—” cutting off your pleases she sticks her tongue in your mouth while gripping the back of your neck making her tongue travel more further. Continuing her abuse with her hand, she finally hits that sweet spot that makes you see star causing you to throw your head back. So she starts her recoloring her previous marks from nights before. She wants people to look at neck and just know your off limits, to know that your being taken care off.

“Hyunju!” You scream out as the hot knot in your stomach finally popped but that doesn’t matter Hyunju will continue her abuse til your done riding out that delicious high.

Sighing in delight Hyunju pulls her fingers out and makes you look at her as she stuff her soiled finger in her mouth causing you to moan.

“Mhmm~ quite a wonderful taste, now I am craving the taste but from the source” she smirks as you whimper and try to close you legs but she is already out of the driver side walking to the passenger side. Opening your door she push the button to make your seat go back as she just smiles.

She slot herself knee deep in the passenger seat while looking into your eyes she rubs and kisses your thighs. You couldn’t help but moan oh man is this casual now?

Opening your thighs she slowly leads her kisses to your folds. Groaning as she comes lips to clit she starts sucking causing your hands to grip her hair. “Ngh—unnie” you moan out causing her suck harder.

Pulling away she groan just getting a glance at your state “you really are eternal” she said was she licks your clit down to your slit. “Mh—please”that’s it, that’s all it took for her to enter you with her tongue groaning at the taste.

You start to squirm in pleasure, you just can’t get enough nor can handle it. But your put to sudden stop as she slaps the side of your thigh and grips your hip letting her nails press into your skin. All you could do was whine and shred those tear Hyunju loved so dearly.

A sudden loud moan leaves your mouth as her thumb starts circling around your clit adding more pleasure on top of what you’re already experiencing. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to twist with all the amount of pleasure so you start trying to push Hyunju head away.

“Unnie please I’m close—” you really tried to push her away but that woman won’t budge she kept her mouth where she wanted it whiling pushing in her nails even deeper into you.

“Wai—” you were cut off with your loudest moan of the night causing the knot to finally pop all over Hyunju. Gasping for air you start to calm down but that calmness is quickly gone with Hyunju rubbing her fingers over your slit.

“Mhm you did such a good job, and tasted so good” she said as she licked the leftover juices on you and her lips. “How about we head to my place?”

Oh you already know what she means…another ‘causal’ fuck with no strings attached. “Please” she mutters with that sad puppy look as she rubs up and down your leg so you just bit back that remark and nodded.

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Ahh um let me know thought because I had to pause and rethink if I’m doing this right



[chaoticwriting]

Part 2

GOTHAM'S NEW ROGUE 3

-An hour before-

Danny is hatching a new plan today. Usually, he goes after the rogues who decide to make a spectacle or show for the public. But today, he will be the one to make it.

As all the devices are put together, Danny readies himself to turn on the screen. Lightly slapping his cheeks a few times Danny brace himself for his first solo stream.

*Live On*

Trickster: Well hello everyone! Isn't today unusually too peaceful. With all the rogues in Arkham and no one for me to bother, I decided to do the most out of my time.

Danny walks to a big hulking machine under wraps by a big piece of cloth. Danny pulls the cloth revealing a big machinery that has a giant clock in the middle.

Trickster: Over here I have my latest invention. I realized that people in this city really love coffee so what I do is make a machine that will spread gasses of caffeine into the air for people to consume via breathing. I even make sure that the special caffeine concoction wouldn't affect children because if I know one thing, it is that children with caffeine are scarier than any rogue.

Danny walks to the panel with a comically large red button with the word 'start' on it right under the clock.

Trickster: Now, when I click this button, it will turn on the timer, which is 30 minutes by the way, and when it runs out, the machine will release the caffeine into the air making everyone unable to sleep for one whole day. What is the effect on the city you may ask? I honestly don't know. But it will be funny if tomorrow everyone just drops dead asleep on the ground at work tomorrow.

Danny suddenly stops talking and slams the button heavily.

Trickster: Anyway, the timer starts now. Come find me if you wanna stop it.

Danny then leaves the screen and lets the camera focus on the clock as it ticks down. Danny sits on a nearby table and continues tinkering with his new special glitter bomb.

It's been 30 minutes when suddenly a window is broken and comes in Batman in all his glory. Except what Batman sees isn't the machine or even Trickster. It is a maze full of what he deems as traps laying around. Batman carefully trudges through the maze as he skillfully disarms the traps that are laid on the ground.

It takes Batman a whole 25 minutes to finally pass the maze before he finally sees the machine without Trickster anywhere in sight. He slowly and vigilantly approaches the machine and sees a small blue button with the word 'stop' right beside the red button.

If Batman had more time, he wouldn't have done anything rash but right now he doesn't have the time nor the ability to safely disarm the machine without making any mistake.

He pushes the button and the clock stops right then and there. He stares at his surrounding vigilantly expecting an ambush. And he is not wrong. There is indeed an ambush. Just not a normal ambush.

The machine that has stopped moving suddenly begins to shake heavily and Batman immediately jumps back to distance himself from whatever the machine is about to do.

Except when he lands, an ice forms under his legs trapping him and he tries to break the ice but the ice is very hard and impossible for him to break immediately at least. He is going to request for backups when the machine turns into tiny robots that start to surround him. He tries to smash all of them but not only are they strong and durable, EMP bombs also don't work on them.

After struggling for a while, some of the robots finally climb their way onto his head. One of them hangs from his mask and releases a gas from its mouth. Batman starts to lose consciousness and just as he is about to pass out Trickster appears in front of him.

Danny looks at Batman and orders his robots to tie him upside down, while rummages through his belt. Danny pulls out a lot of things from smoke bomb that accidentally explodes when Danny throws them to a bat shark repellent? What the hell? Anyway, after going through his belt for a while he finally found his target.

The Batwallet.

Danny turns to the hidden camera and starts to monologue.

Trickster: Hello hello everyone. Today, we have a very special guest. Presenting to you an unconscious Batman! And right here I have the strongest weapon in the world. The Batwallet! Hahahahaha.

Trickster: Now, you might be thinking. What is so strong about the wallet? And that my dear friend is the reason I am here today. Let's take a look at what's inside shall we.

Danny pulls out a black card with a bat symbol in the middle of it. Showing it to the camera, Danny gives out the biggest smile he can (somehow).

Trickster: This is the Bat credit card. I know. Sounds stupid. But you know what isn't stupid. The limit on this card. There is no limit. That means I can buy whatever I want with this.

Danny then pulls out a few polaroid pictures from the wallet that catches his attention.

Trickster: What's this? The bats secret identity? Boring. Why would I need to know who they are? Wait. This one is funny. Is this little Nightwing? Hahahaha. He's so little. *Gasp* Little Red Hood. Aww schmuck. I wanna share this with someone. I'm keeping this. I'm sure Batman has backup of these pictures.

Danny then phases the card and the photos into his body and picks up the camera.

Trickster: All right. That's it for today's stream. Oh yeah. We are in the warehouse south of the Bowery. I will shoot a flare after this for you to come get Batman. Well, you better come fast or other people will come for him.

After that the stream is cut off and a flare is shot from one of the warehouses in the Bowery. When the Bats arrived, all that was left was an unconscious Batman, tied up from the ceiling with his belt on the ground.

While the bats are busy extracting Batman back to the cave, Danny is having a feast at the Batburger. On his table, there are 50 sets of burgers, fries and cokes (the soda). Along with his food, he has pretty much paid all the food for everyone inside the Batburger. People were pretty on the fence when he first entered, but Gothamite being Gothamite, they readily accepted him when he paid for their food.

While Danny is busy eating, a big buff guy in a suit approaches him with his own food.

???: Good evening, Mr. Trickster. May I eat with you?

[ccstiles]

Chat, I fear I have cooked once more 😌

*ahem*

Would you ever love me again?

"Penelope..."

Odysseus said to himself, scared to open the oh so familiar doors in front of him.

He didn't know how she would react to him, to what he had become. Last she saw of him, he was simply a man going off to war, to help his brotherin, but now... He was caked in blood, and looked like he hadn't seen a bath in years.

He took a deep breath, gathering as much courage as he could, and he pushed the doors open.

His eyes were stuck to the floor, unable to look up at his wife that he knew was standing there.

"Is it you?"

Odysseus was expecting a soft voice to greet him, not knowing if it was going to be filled with hurt, anger, or love.

"Have my prayers been answered?"

But as he heard who was speaking to him, his eyes widened, not expecting the voice he was greeted with.

"Is it really you standing there? Or am I dreaming once more?"

Odysseus began to look up as the deeper voice registered in his mind.

"You look different. Your eyes look tired, your frame is lighter, your smile torn."

Finally, as his eyes landed on the person that was speaking, he felt his heart drop.

"Is it really you my love?"

It wasn't her.

Where was she?

"Who... Who are you?" Odysseus asked the person, the man, in front of him, his anger growing as he continued to speak, "what have you done to my wife?"

"Ody," the man began to take a step towards Odysseus, but he was quick to draw the sword at his hip.

"Where is Penelope?!" He all but yelled, staring down the man in front of him, threatening him with his sword.

"Odysseus, it's me," the man in front of him stepped back, figuring it best to reason with the angered king at a distance.

Odysseus stared for a moment at the man, his face seeming familiar yet not at the same time, his voice, deep but still light as he talked, and his eyes...

The eyes he saw every time he closed his own to sleep. Eyes that both haunted and eased him any time he thought of them during his 20 year long journey.

Her eyes.

His eyes?

Odysseus lowered his sword as these thoughts raced through his mind.

"....Penny?" His voice was quiet, confused and curious as the pieces started to click into place in his head.

The man nodded, still uncertain as he brought his hands to his chest in comfort, something she- he? Would always do when upset.

"I... I know I am different," Penelope began to speak, "I am not the woman you fell in love with, the woman you were looking to be with when you returned."

Odysseus' shoulders began to lower as Penelope talked. He took the other in, everything that was the same and everything that was different.

"...neither am I," Odysseus stated, "I am not the man you fell for under the olive tree all those years ago. I've done so much..."

As the two lovers looked at each other, at what they had become, fear struck them both that all this waiting was for nothing, that they couldn't love each other as they had 20 years ago.

"... What have you done?" Penelope asked, curious.

"So much," Odysseus breathed, like the weight of his actions suffocated him, "killed, betrayed, hurt, crossed, everyone I saw. Gods, mortals, giants and monsters, none escaped the bloodshed."

Penelope looked at him with sympathy in his eyes, listening as Odysseus laid his sins out for him to see.

"Would... Would you ever fall in love with me again?" Odysseus braced himself as he asked the question that rattled around in his brain. After everything he'd done, after the monster he had become, would Penelope love him the same?

"...I knew that those years at war and years disappeared would leave you with blood on your hands. I was prepared to see you with horrors of war painted across your thoughts and dreams." Penelope's face softened as he spilled his own heart out for Odysseus, "You are still the man I fell for, the man I married, even if you have crossed those that once trusted you, I still love you. I never stopped."

Odysseus was shocked at his words, his eyes filling with tears and his heart filling with love knowing that even after the horrors he had committed, they didn't matter to Penelope.

"But..." Penelope looked down as he fidgeted with his hands, "would you ever love me again?"

Odysseus felt his heart break, hearing the sadness and fear in the other's voice.

"Penny..." Odysseus slowly walked towards him, letting his sword drop onto a nearby table, "my love. No matter how you change, no matter if your voice deepens, if you grow hair on your chin and cheeks, if your muscles tone, if anything, you are still you. You are still the mind that interested and intrigued me, the soul I connected with, the person I love and married. No matter how your physical body changes, you are still you; the person I love."

Odysseus' vision blurred with tears as Penelope ran to embrace him, feeling tears on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around his lover, never wanting to let go ever again.

They stood there in a tight embrace, scared that if they let go that the other would disappear.

Penelope slowly pulled away to look up at Odysseus, cupping his cheek in his hand.

"How long has it been?" Penelope asked, tears still falling.

"20 years..." Odysseus sighed, bringing his forehead to rest on Penelope's.

"I love you"

You know what ? *genderbends your penelope* Since you're so gay and like to draw men

i raise ur genderbend and give u: transmasc penelope (whose name is vasileios thank u @shinedoitsulikeabright mwah mwah <3)

yes, they were both terrified they wouldn't accept each other and who they've become and of course they fell in love with each other all over again

and yeah the "just a man" bit in their song is for both of em now

[satellite-evans]

Juntos.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: Franco struggles with disappointment after losing his racing seat, but your support helps him feel less alone in facing the tough situation.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, little fluff

main masterlist

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is my first Franco fic so I am very excited!!! I am very new to Formula 1 so I will try my best to make the stories as realistic as possible. I dramatized this fic a little bc I could not help myself lol but I love Carlos sm and wish him nothing but luck in Williams. Also, I would not mind if you guys help me understand Formula 1 more xxx

hope you guys will like it :)

Also, the Spanish words I used are directly from Google Translate, if I made mistakes please feel free to correct me <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The dim light of the apartment cast a glow over the cozy space, the kind that usually made the room feel warm and inviting. Tonight, however, it felt different—heavier, subdued, as if the walls themselves understood the weight of the emotions filling the air. The scent of a faintly burning candle lingered in the background, a forgotten remnant of an attempt to lighten the mood earlier in the evening. Outside, the muffled sounds of the city hummed faintly, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence inside.

Franco sat on the edge of the couch, his head bowed, fingers tangled in his dark hair. His shoulders hunched forward, as though bearing the weight of an invisible burden too great to carry. The usually vibrant spark in his eyes, the one that ignited whenever he talked about racing, was gone. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the floor, unseeing, his expression hollow. It was as if the moment he walked through the door, all the fight had drained out of him, leaving behind a man who didn’t know how to put the pieces of himself back together.

You stood by the kitchen counter, your heart breaking at the sight of him. He hadn’t said much since he got home, just a quiet “Estoy en casa” before sinking into the couch. He used easy Spanish words around you since he knew you wanted to learn the language. That's how kind he was. You’d known this day would be hard for him, but seeing him like this was almost unbearable. The news had come down like a guillotine: Carlos Sainz was taking the seat. Franco was out, with no prospects for next year. No contract, no guarantees. Nothing but the crushing void left behind by a dream slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t fair. You knew how hard he’d worked, how much of himself he’d poured into his career. The endless hours in the gym, the relentless study of data, the sacrifices he made, all for the pursuit of speed, glory, and a chance to prove himself on the biggest stage. And yet, it hadn’t been enough.

He’d tried to hide it at first. When he’d called you after the meeting, his voice had been calm, even detached. But you’d heard the slight tremor, the hesitation that betrayed his carefully constructed mask. And now, here he was, the man you loved, unraveling before your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The steam curled softly in the air, a fragile whisper of warmth against the cold tension that filled the room. You set it down gently on the coffee table before lowering yourself onto the cushion beside him.

“Franco,” you said softly, your voice a lifeline in the quiet. He didn’t look up, but the slight shift in his posture told you he’d heard you. Gently, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. His skin was warm, but his fingers remained still, unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I know how much this meant to you.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes met yours, red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. The sight of him like this—so raw, so vulnerable—made your chest ache.

“I did everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “Everything. And it wasn’t enough. They just… threw me away. Like I don’t matter.”

Tears pricked your own eyes as you reached out to cup his face, your thumbs gently brushing against his stubbled cheeks. “You do matter, Franco. To me, to your family, to the fans who adore you. To everyone who’s ever seen you race and knows how talented you are.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Talent doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have the politics, the money, the… connections. Carlos… he’s amazing, and he deserves it, I know that. But I can’t help feeling like I’ll never be enough, no matter what I do.”

“No soy suficiente,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "I'm not enough." His words hung in the air, filled with a quiet intensity.

“Don' say that, you're more than enough,” you echoed, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “And I know this feels impossible right now, like the world’s closing in on you, but this isn’t the end of your story. You’re Franco. My Frankie. You’re a fighter, a dreamer, and you’ve never let anything keep you down before. This won’t either.”

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time that evening, he leaned into you, his head resting against your shoulder. The weight of him felt heavier than usual, as though he’d poured all his sorrow and weariness into the simple act of leaning on you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, cradling him as if you could shield him from the pain of the world.

“No sé qué haría sin vos,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your neck. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His arms came around you then, pulling you closer, as though he was afraid to let go. You felt his tears dampen your shirt, and the sound of his quiet sobs broke your heart all over again. But you didn’t let go. You held him tighter, letting him pour out everything he’d been holding inside.

“You’re my everything, Franco,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ll always be here. No matter what. Together, we’ll get through this.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy but filled with something deeper now—gratitude, love, and maybe a flicker of hope. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips trembling against yours but charged with a fierce intensity. The kiss was deep and searching, a collision of his anguish and gratitude, his need to find solace in the one constant in his life—you. His hands cupped your face, fingers threading gently through your hair as though anchoring himself to you, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. It wasn’t hurried but deliberate, each movement a testament to the depth of his emotions. You could feel the raw edges of his heartbreak and the unspoken promise of his love, so consuming and desperate it made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven, the faintest quiver still lingering in his lips. The weight of his gaze bore into yours, as though he was silently pleading for reassurance that you’d stay by his side. And in that moment, you both knew you were his safe haven, his reason to keep fighting.

“We’re going to get through this,” you repeated softly, brushing a strand of his hair from his face. “Together.”

A soft murmur broke the silence. “Juntos,” Franco whispered, almost to himself.

You blinked, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Juntos? What’s that? An unreleased Sabrina Carpenter song or something?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax even a hint of a smile from him.

For a moment, he just stared at you, and then, to your relief, a small, genuine giggle escaped his lips. It was the first time you’d heard him laugh all night, and it warmed you to your core.

He shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips now. “No, it’s Spanish. It means ‘together.’”

“Together,” you repeated softly, the word settling in your heart like a comforting balm.

He nodded, his gaze searching yours. “You’ve been saying it all night without realizing it. ‘Together, we’ll figure it out.’ ‘Together, we’ll find a way.’ You keep reminding me I’m not alone. And… you’re right. Juntos. We’ll do this juntos, no matter what.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they were from the overwhelming love and gratitude you felt. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes, juntos. Siempre. Always.”

A soft chuckle escaped him again, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. In that moment, the weight of the world didn’t feel as heavy anymore. Together—juntos—you knew you’d face whatever came next.

[ylangelegy]

i love your writing !! 🥹 for the jealousy prompts, han and “i don’t blame them of course, but you’re mine”?

★ jisung x makeup artist!reader ┆ word count: 1.1k ┆ part of my closed jealousy drabble game.

ⓘ established/secret relationship, fluff.

There's a certain level of tenacity needed to survive dating an idol.

You've known this since day one, since the unassuming Tuesday afternoon where Jisung had shyly asked you if you wanted to make it official. In the industry, 'official' and 'public' were two completely different promises.

You're not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. You love Jisung. He loves you. That should be enough, right?

At least that's what you try to remind yourself as you steel yourself for another award show. It's the Asia Artist Awards this time, one of the bigger ones that Jisung has always admitted to having mixed feelings about.

For a celebrity, your boyfriend sure did have an aversion to crowds.

He's gotten good at masking it, at least. You watch from the wings as he glides down the red carpet with the rest of the band. Not a thing is out of place. His hair is flawless; his suit is pressed. Most importantly, his makeup is immaculate, although that's to be expected when the one doing your makeup is someone who knows your features well.

Jisung does everything that he has to. He puts on a photo-ready smile. He waves to fans, makes hearts with his hands for the cameras. When the boys step aside for interviews, he does that, too— slides in a wisecrack, nods in all the right places.

It's mesmerizing, seeing him put on a show, and it's a show that everybody eats right up.

"He's popular today," one of your fellow makeup artists notes with amusement.

You follow her gaze. She's right. The screams for Jisung's name are a little louder. The cameras flash brighter when he moves. Even the interviewer seems particularly enamored, laughing loudly at Jisung's quips and resting a casual hand on his shoulder.

The flash of annoyance that you feel is assuaged when Jisung takes an infinitesimal step away, feigning like he's leaning into Minho instead.

"He is," you finally respond in an even tone, even though the word doesn't quite encapsulate it.

Your boyfriend is more than popular. He's a goddamn star. Everybody can see it, and so everyone wants a piece of him.

Once the boys' five minutes of fame are over, they slink off to a secluded area for retouches. The atmosphere and the lights always call for quick touch ups. A little bit of blush there. A brush of powder here.

Immediately, your team descends on them. Each boy has an assigned artist. When you make your way to Jisung, the shift is palpable.

Blink and you'll miss it. Jisung goes from his idol persona to somebody tired, somebody drained from all the interaction, to someone who is looking at the love of his life. His eyes light up. His shoulders ease. The corners of his lips tug upward in a fond, giddy grin, and you can't help the way you smile as well.

"Hey, you," he breathes, years worth of affection packed in a simple greeting.

"Hi," you say back. "Your lip gloss is smudged."

He chuckles, as though he's amused you're going straight to business. There's not much room for you to be the couple that you want to be. Not when you're in a public place, when he's still got an entire show to sit through and a stage to perform.

The two of you have managed to strike a balance, find your happy middle. Jisung toed the line more often than not, but he knew better than to push the envelope when it was your careers on the line.

He stays still as you go to fix his gloss. He physically can't help but tease, though, his mouth moving against the pads of your fingers.

"You would know a thing or two about smudging my gloss," he mumbles, his voice low enough for just the two of you to hear.

You shoot him a glare. He throws you an exaggerated wink.

This is the Jisung that you knew, the Jisung behind the scenes. Cheerful despite his exhaustion. Awkward in his flirtation but never any less sincere.

You rummage through your kit for concealer. It's not unusual for the artists to be well-acquainted with the boys, and so small talk was typically accepted. Your voice is perfectly casual and conversational as you comment, "You're getting good reception today."

He doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, well, maybe it's 'cause I have a good makeup artist."

Your lips twitch like you're holding back a smile. Jisung looks like he already won an award for the night at the mere sight of it.

"Just 'good'?" you tease, working on reapplying concealer under his eyes.

"Mmm," he hums. "Meant to say 'the best'."

Even though you give him an eye roll in response, the two of you know that you revel in his affirmation. It's why he's so generous in doling it out.

Jisung sounds like he's treading gently as he question, "You okay, though?"

You return his question with a distracted one of your own. "Why wouldn't I be?" you ask, still focused on smoothing out some of the blemishes around his nose.

There's a moment where Jisung contemplates whether he should go on. You can tell by the way his teeth briefly sink into his lower lip, the way his eyebrows furrow for a moment. His next words are calculated, careful.

"The 'good reception' thing," he says slowly. "Is that about all the— uh, fans?"

The question is vague, but you've known Jisung for long enough to know what he's implying. A part of you melts at how ready your boyfriend is to give you assurance, even if both of you are on the clock.

"I don't blame them, of course." Your own words are matter-of-fact as you step back to survey your handiwork. Voice still pitched for just the two of you, you go on, "But you're mine."

Jisung looks like you've struck him between the eyes. It draws a laugh out of you. You're never outwardly possessive, not the type to kick up a fuss over his thousands of adoring fans or fellow idols, and so it's a bit of a rare treat.

"I'm—" he starts so sputter. "You're—"

"Jisung-ah!"

Chan's distant call barely snaps Jisung out of his flustered state. You have to give your boyfriend a light shove, just to encourage him to get moving.

"Later," you say. A promise.

He doesn't respond immediately. It seems like his brain has stopped working, and when it boots up, he manages a panicked squeak of, "Later!"

Jisung stumbles off, nearly tripping on his own laces. You put your hand to your mouth to hold back your giggles.

He will have to go face everyone else with his cool and collected persona. He will have to go be HAN of Stray Kids, will have to rap and joke and perform.

But there is also a Jisung that you love, a Jisung that's yours, and it's enough. It's more than enough.

[soft-beams]

Hellooooooooo

Ok first off I LOVE YOUR WORK THERE SO GOOD AND SO WELL WRITTEN THAT I WANNA EAT THEM TO GAIN POWER

Second I wanna submit a request if that’s ok

An x reader with Vi where the reader is touch repulsed but at the same time touch staved?? How would Vi react to that and how would they as a couple get through it and make reader comfortable with being touched in an affectionate way ?

I have no clue if this makes sense

This is me self reflecting and it shows I’m sorry

If you don’t want to write it I completely get it you don’t have to if you don’t want too.

Thank you

aah thank you so much, lovely!! YOU'RE TOO KIND!!! and this was such an interesting prompt to get, thank you for sending it!! hope you enjoy!

vi notices that you don't like being touched.

she sees how you shy away from her hands, how you can only last in a hug for a second before you need to escape.

it confuses vi in the beginning, makes her wonder if it's her fault somehow. maybe she's too rough, too heavy-handed. maybe you can only tolerate her from a distance; only allowing her to get close for a moment before it's too much.

it hurts; it fucking does.

and it leads to an argument that has both of you screaming at the top of your lungs. she's furious and confused, and you're furious and crying. it doesn’t end until you're storming out of your shared home, disappearing for hours.

you don't come home until it's midnight, and by that point, vi's called everyone that she knows if they've seen you. she's about to go out herself when the front door suddenly opens, revealing a puffy-eyed and sniffling you. you stare at each other for a moment before vi's reaching for you, her own expression crumpling with the weight of her tears.

you allow her to draw you in, only this time you don't pull away. this time, you withstand it until vi's had her fill. until vi's sure that you're alright and safe and home.

one am finds you both on the couch, facing each other as you fidget with your hands. vi watches you carefully, sees how you struggle to form words before you sigh.

"it isn't you," you begin. "it's never been you. it's just something i've struggled with since i was young." you stay quiet for a second. "being touched freaks me out. i don't like being held for too long because it feels like i can't escape. makes me feel vulnerable..." you close your eyes. "that happened once and i just don't want it to happen again."

vi's heart shatters in her chest, millions of pieces raining down on the pit of her stomach. she feels sick; she feels like she wants to throw up. she wants to punch something, scream, hunt down the very bastard who dared laid their hands on you in such a way.

you who is the sweetest, kindest person she's ever known. subjected to be trapped against your will.

vi swallows, feeling tears well up behind her eyes.

"i'm so sorry," she murmurs softly, and you aim a weak smile her way. "i didn't think that—"

you shake your head. "you couldn't have known," you say. "the sad thing is that i love it when you touch me. when you hold my hand or curl your arm around my waist. when you pull me in for a hug...i love all of it." you then pull in a shaky breath. "but my body can't seem to recognise your touch as safe, and it hurt so much because i want to—" your voice chokes up around a sob and vi's flying across the couch, sitting close to comfort but not close enough to startle.

"hey," she soothes. "i love you so much, y'know that? and love goes beyond touching. it's about how we feel towards each other, and that goes above anything else." she takes a gentle hold of your finger, ensuring you can let go if you wish to. "do i love touching you? yes. but do i love you? more than fucking anything. so don't worry about this, okay? whatever you want to do, we'll do it and go at your pace."

at this point, you're freely sobbing now, tears rolling down your cheeks as you take in shuddering breaths. you use your free hand to wipe at your tears, giving a wobbly smile as you say, "how did i get so lucky with you?"

vi huffs a laugh, eyes soft as she squeezes your finger.

"i ask myself that question about you every single day."

[moonmaiden1996]

Totally agree 💯 with your thoughts on Sanji as a romantic partner (he's my favourite 🥰). What is your opinion on him as a sexual partner? I somehow see him still as a virgin (would have died from that massive nosebleeding) 🤣 and shy, afraid of not pleasing his woman. Maybe more vanilla than into kinks. Lot of cuddling, kissing and holding hands. 🤔 What you think?

I love this question. Sanji is also my fav- you have good taste.

Okay, buckle up, folks—I've put some serious thought into this, and here comes a full-blown essay.

First off, I’m convinced Sanji is a virgin. Hear me out. I think even Oda might’ve hinted at this somewhere? The guy’s all about the romance of the relationship, not the deed itself. His intensity about love probably scares off anyone looking for casual fun. Add to that his chronic nosebleeds at even the hint of affection or attraction—it’s safe to say it takes someone very special to get over him losing his entire supply of blood through his nose to get to that level.

But let’s talk about Sanji as a lover. The man is a giver, full stop. His happiness comes from making you happy, no matter the lengths he has to go to. Sanji’s the kind of guy who could literally lose himself in your pleasure—like, "Oh, you’re enjoying this? Great, I’m done!" He’s probably the type to cum in his pants while he’s focusing on you.

In the early stages of your relationship, Sanji would be laser-focused on perfecting his technique. Picture him pouring over every guide, every book, every questionable magazine he can find to up his game. And don’t think he’d stop there—oh no, this man would shamelessly eavesdrop on his fellow crew members for tips. And yes, I absolutely believe he’d practice on a half-eaten peach in the privacy of his room. (RIP peaches, forever ruined for him he can't go near them without his pants tightening .)

Being the hopeless romantic he is, Sanji’s all about slow burns. He’d wait until marriage, all while showering you with kisses and cuddles—he thrives on emotional and physical connection. That said, if you weren’t a virgin, he’d be down for a little extra physical affection before marriage and the big event (cue eyebrow waggle). He wouldn’t mind your past; he’d just be thrilled to share this new chapter with you. And hey, if you’ve got pointers? Even better. Sanji’s a fast learner with a willingness to please.

Now, if you were a virgin, Sanji would handle it with the utmost care. This man would be terrified of messing it up and you never want him to touch you again (I feel like this is the biggest fear for him getting physical with you, that and hurting your even the slightest bit). Hence lots of prep, oils, and constant check-ins to make sure everything feels just right. He’d follow your instructions to the letter, treating the whole experience like a sacred ritual.

Now for the spicy part: fetishes.

I’m torn here. On one hand, I could see Sanji keeping things vanilla—classic positions, whatever works best for you, with a side of soul-stirring romance. But let’s not forget, this man is also prone to dramatic flair. I wouldn’t be shocked if he pulled out some next-level One Piece tantric lovemaking just to keep things interesting.

On the kinkier side, I think a breeding kink might be on the table. Sanji dreams of a big, loud, loving family, and the "practice makes perfect" mindset tracks perfectly with his character. Beyond that, he’d be open to experimenting—but with clear boundaries. Anything involving harm or discomfort? Absolutely off-limits. Sanji wants you happy and safe, always. Nothing you do or say will persuade him. Side note thought - he would be very down to mark you up with hickeys, something that doesn't hurt you but tells everyone your his really hits his possessive needs.

That said… I do get strong "step on me, mommy" vibes from him. Just putting it out there. Take that as you will.

At the end of the day, Sanji is all about love, care, and devotion. Whether he’s cooking for you, cuddling with you, or, ahem, other things *wink wink*, he’s 100% in. He lives to see you happy, and your joy and pleasure is the greatest reward for this passionate, hopeless romantic man.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn't resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Busy?” Vivica hums with doubt. “Again.” 

“Sorry, Vic, I just... can’t,” you roll your eyes at your reflection. No, the eye liner is too much. You think mascara’s fine. 

“What’s going on?” Her voice rises from your phone as it rests amid the mess of your bathroom counter. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been kind of a bitch.” 

She isn’t wrong. You twist the wand of the mascara and pop it from the tube. You sigh. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Better reason for you all to go without me,” you say. “I don’t want to bring you down.” 

“Hm, fine,” she lets her disappointment through. “But you’re getting coffee with me soon. I’m worried.” 

You nod and brush through your lashes. “I’ll let you know what I’m free.” 

You sniff as she tuts noisily. “Fine, I’ll wait.” 

“Go, have fun,” you insist. “Text you later.” 

“Right, sure.” 

You tap the red button and the call ends. You slide the wand into place and twist the mascara shut. You fighting a losing battle here. You drop the tube and throw your head back, heaving out a breath. 

You don’t even know why you’re doing this. It’s a joke. A date? You’ll just be letting down one more person. You hate to waste Curtis’ time. Hence, why you haven’t told anyone about it. You don’t need them to know about another fuck up. 

The phone buzzes. You roll your eyes and press your fingerprint to the screen to unlock. You expect another long lecture typed out by Vivica, instead, it’s Curtis. Is he already here? No, you’re not ready. You bend to read his message. 

‘Hey, if you got em, wear sneakers or hiking boots.’ 

You squint. Huh? Is he taking you on a hike? Wow. Well, you suppose you deserve that kind of effort. Besides, you’re really not in the mood for a crowded restaurant where you have to pretend to know the appetizer sharing etiquette. 

‘I can dig some out’ you type back. 

You step back and sift through your sparse make up. You pick out a shade of lip gloss closest to your natural hue. Is it really necessary? Why are you even trying? You know how this ends. You pop your lips and snap the cap into place. 

Maybe he’s a murderer. Somehow, that doesn’t scare you. Even as the pieces seem to fall into place. He’s taking you out alone. Somewhere he’s kept a surprise, and he told you to bring sporty shoes. You expect you might be running from an axe in the woods soon enough. Not such a dire end considering. 

You shake off the absurd thought. You don’t want to look like you went overboard. Curtis has been so casual about all of this. Yeah, casual. Just put on something simple. 

The black jeans could easily be mistaken for nicer pants. The turtleneck isn’t too much either. Blue cotton with little white daisies. You’ll put a cardigan over it and pull on your hiking boots. Wow, a dream come true. A date in Sorel avant garde. 

Your nerves begin to go wild. You don’t know why. It’s not a real date, it’s a courtesy. He asked so you might as well just go. You grab your phone and wait on the couch, a youtube video babbling unheard from the television. 

Your phone vibrates. You sit up. It’s Curtis. 

‘Here. I think.’ 

‘I’ll come down’. You type back. 

You get up and hurry around. You grab your crossbody bag and your keys. You shoulder out the door and lock it behind you. Your phone buzzes once more. 

‘Right by the door.’ 

You come out and look around, searching the cars parked along the curb. Your attention is drawn back to the motorcycle between an SUV and Honda Accord. You approach Curtis as he hugs a second helmet under his arm. 

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers the helmet. 

You take it as you process the full picture. The matte black tank, the leather saddle bags in the same shade as his jacket and gloves, the steel gray exhaust and thick tires. You nod. 

“Not at all.” 

“I shoulda warned you,” he says. 

“I’ve been on one before,” you assure him as you pull on the helmet and loop the strap under your chin. 

“Oh?” 

“I know, I don’t look like the type. I’m not.” You flip the visor down. 

“Ah, well, whoever he was, hope he didn’t spoil the ride completely,” he says, “get on.” 

He turns and straddles the bike, kick back the stand. You hesitate then reach for his arm. You climb up behind him and swing your leg over. You wince as you land on the seat. Ouch, you’re still a bit sore down there. 

“Gonna have to hang on tight,” he pats his side. 

“Sure, uh... right.” 

You hook your arms around him. This is an easy gag for a man. Get a woman nice and close under the fear she might become road kill. Slick. 

“You ready?” He rolls the bike towards the street. 

“Ready,” you assure him. 

He starts the motor and revs. He angles around and speeds off down the road. You pull yourself closer as the wind tunnels around you. The smell of leather fills your nose as you close your eyes. It’s not awful, is it? 

When you look again, you’re head towards the town line. You watch the trees grow thicker as he steers along the country roads. That paranoia rises again. It would be just your luck. Look what happened the other night. 

You lift your head and peek over his shoulder. He rides up to a farm and comes a halt. He plants his feet in the dirt and kills the engine. A thrum lingers in your muscles as the roar of the bike dulls your hearing. 

“We’re here,” he proclaims. 

You take his cue. You get off first and he parks the bike with a kick of the stand. You wiggle the helmet off and look up at the farmhouse and the barn further back. Your brows pinch together curiously. 

“It’s not that lame, I promise.” He takes your helmet and hangs it with his on the handle bar.  “Friend of mine owns the place. He let me have it for the night.” 

“Mhm, good friend.” 

“Yeah, he can be,” he removes the saddlebags from the back of the bike and waves you on. “That way, just around the back.” 

You nod and turn away. You stride up along the side of the house. It’s an old-fashioned place. Faded wood and peeling paint. You pause before you can pass it completely. You look back at him as he nearly runs into you. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

You look him in his stormy gray eyes, “you’re not going to kill me, right?” 

He snorts and his cheek dimples. “I can’t guarantee no blood but that’s far from the plan.” 

You frown. What a strange answer.

You shrug and turn back to your path. You come out around the back of the house, sown fields in the early stages of growth behind a large board painted with circles. A ply wood target. A picnic table across from it with a clutter over one half. You cross your arms as you near. 

“Hatchet throwing,” he puts the saddle bags on the table. “Thought it would be fun. Something a little less... crowded.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head like a squawking crow. 

He lifts one of the axes and holds it up. “Good stress relief.” 

“Mm,” you reach for one, less confident in your grasp. 

He turns to the target and extends his arm towards it. “You wanna keep a light but sturdy grip,” he says. “You don’t want it to catch.” 

He bends his arm back and swings it ahead again, letting the hatchet fly with easy. You flinch as it thunks into the target, just off-center. Your lips slant. 

“You got a lot of experience?” 

“Well, I started with darts at the bar but didn’t like all the drunks. There’s a place you can pay to do this in town but it’s pricey and loud,” he says. “So... I put this together.” 

“Yeah, probably not worth the money.” The words hang in the air, a question whether you mean the activity or yourself. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Uh, oh,” push your bag behind you and look at the target. “I...” You raise your arm, try to line up your aim, then drop it down. “I can’t.” 

“You want a few tips?” 

“Think I need them.” 

“Alright, no problem. It’s no biggy. Worst that happens, it lands in the dirt.” He comes close and lightly guides you by your shoulders, standing you perpendicular to the target. “Alright, bring it up.” 

You raise your arm and he helps you line up. He gets even closer and nudges your feet with his scuffed boots to get you in position. “That’s it, just like that.” 

You grip the axe tighter and your eyes widen. Those words hit you like the blade, slicing deep. The body on top of yours, his rasping cooes, and his cruel thrusts. You blink away the vision of Hugh and shudder. 

“Here,” Curtis touches your hand, “loosen up. Pull back. Yeah, you got it.” He steps back, “when you’re ready, let it fly.” 

He stands away from you and watches. You bite down and stare at the target. All your frustration and fear bubbles in your chest. You narrow your eyes and take a breath. You fling the hatchet without restraint. The thunk in the wood is deafening. 

Curtis whistles, “wow, good shot.” 

You turn straight to examine the board. Your shot is opposite of his, right on the line with the bullseye.  

“Lucky,” you say. 

“I dunno, you seem like a natural,” he crosses the ground and pulls out the hatches. “Wanna toss a few more? Build up an appetite?” 

“Uh, sure,” you agree. “It is kind of fun.” 

“I think so. Even more when you have company,” he approaches and offers the hatchet. “I packed a picnic so we won’t have to chew on seeds.” 

You glance at the sprouting fields. You laugh. It was a little fun. 

“Got one,” he spins the hatchet in his hand. “You go first. Since you won first round.” 

“What? No I didn’t.” 

“You were closer so... that’s a win. Champ.” 

“Alright, no need for the sarcasm,” you shake your head. 

“I’m a sore loser,” he winks. “So, take it easy on me and I might lighten up.” 

🎯

The rumble of the engine stays with you as you climb off the bike. Curtis cuts the engine and flips down the stand. He takes off his helmet as you descend back to earth. Literally. Somehow in those last three hours or so, he kept the world from invading your mind. 

“That was nice,” he says. “I think.” 

You hold the helmet in your hands, a good way to keep them still. You look down and crack a smile. He hangs his on the bike. 

“Another one huh?” He says and you pop your head up. “Got another smile.” 

You blush and shake your head, “I don’t know. I guess.” 

“You had fun?” He asks. 

“I did,” you contend and hand over the helmet. “Thanks. For everything.” 

“No, thank you.” He holds the helmet at his side and stares at you. The streetlights cast ominous shadows over him. He shifts so his sole scrapes the ground. “I hope maybe we can do it again.” 

“Er...” you’re struck by the suggestion. Again? Like a second date. That can’t be real. Not after everything. Oh bitter irony. “Sure, Curtis. I think next time I could let you win.” 

“Yeah, next time,” he rasps. He leans in and you realise what’s happening. He’s going to kiss you. Oh. 

“Ugh, oh,” you trip on nothing and hop up on the curb. “Oops, sorry, it’s so dark out here.”  

He recoils and clears his throat, “yeah, uh, you want me to walk you to the door?” 

“Uh, no, no,” you put your palms up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.” 

“Alright,” he says despondently. “Have a good night.” 

“Yeah, you too.” 

“I’ll text,” he mutters. 

“I’ll answer.” 

You spin and cringe at your building. You suck. You're a dork. Ew. Ew. Ew. 

You march up the walk and don’t stop until you’re inside. You blew it. So close but so far. Just like you expected. Well, then you can be that disappointed. 

You retreat to your apartment and slam your phone down. You won’t think about it. He has to drive home and he won’t text tonight anyway. You just hate a date. A date! 

Was it really real? After everything? You think so. 

You sink onto the couch. You hold your chin and pick your lip. Just another day and you’d be in la la land. This would be heaven. One more day and you may have let him kiss you. Before you were used up and tarnished. 

Ugh. Why couldn’t you have just let it happen? Because those things don’t happen to you. Romance isn’t for you. It’s for other people. And people lie. Even Curtis. Maybe he won’t text after all. 

You lean back and turn on the television in resignation. You put on an early 00s sitcom with a sadly departed main star. That’s how life is. When it’s good, it goes wrong, or it’s just over. When it’s bad, that’s when it seems eternal. 

You cross your legs then think better of that. Even with all the lube, there’s a lot of damage done. Nothing serious, just sensitive. It was your first time. You don’t imagine it gets better. 

Your phone buzzes at the end of episode two. You nearly jump off the sofa. Don’t be stupid. 

You get up, patiently, and get your phone. You sit down again before you unlock it. The message that comes up isn’t from Curtis. Or Vivica. Or Mila. Or Jerrod. 

It’s from WhatsApp. You only ever used that for... 

‘You lookin’ for another weekend fling?’ 

You stare at Hugh’s message. You deleted the conversation but you recognise the number. The two checkmarks turn green to show you’ve read the message. God dammit. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re mortified. You crash back to earth with startling speed. You can’t undo that. Worse, you don’t think you’ll ever get past it. 

You clear all your apps and put your phone on do not disturb. 

You stretch out on the couch and focus on the TV. Not really. It just glares in your vision as you stare through it. As you can hear nothing but a distant whistle. You stay like that, fractured, until your consciousness slowly falls away. 

You’re back in the hotel room. Alone one minute then pinned to the bed. The ceilings tear open as Hugh fucks you. You’re gushing around him, the smell of blood fills the air with iron. You meld with the blankets, shrouded in them, then suddenly thunder roars through the space. 

Curtis rides in on his motorcycle. How? A hatchet flies and hit the headboard, glancing by your cheek. You look past Hugh’s writhing body, completely oblivious of the other’s man disgusted glares. 

“Slut.” 

The word wakes you. You jolt up and hold your head dizzily. The windows are glazed over with the soft tones of morning. You groan and turn your legs over the edge of the couch. 

You get up to make your coffee. The dark roast brew and the aroma eases your nerves. You grab you phone out of habit and sit down. You have another message. You put the phone down. 

You go back to the kitchen and fill a mug. You drink in silence. You take the cup into the bathroom and shower before you finish the dregs. As you sit to pee, you wince. It’s been a week. It’s still painful but you’re sure it’s all in your head. After all, your pride hurts worse than anything else. 

You rinse your cup, pick up your phone, and determine to delete the message. As the chat opens, you’re stopped by the image there. You nearly drop it. Instead, you lean on the counter is gasp. 

‘Thot I was ur 1st' the message reads beneath the photo of you and Curtis in the yellow cascade of the streetlight. 

The checkmark fills and three bubbles pop up. Fuck. The next text comes quickly. 

‘How would ur bf feel about u fucking strangers?’ 

‘Not my bf. Leave me alone.’ Your thumbs tap furiously and you hit send. 

He sends a laughing emoji and the dots appear again. ‘I got a discount. Just 4 u.’ 

‘No thx. Not interested’ 

‘Didn’t ask don’t care but think I know who would’ 

You huff and hang your head back. You don’t get it. Why is he doing this? He got his fee and you got what you paid for. 

‘No. Pls don’t message again.’ 

You bring down the menu and delete the conversation and block the sender. It isn’t until after that that you realise. He took that picture outside your building. He knows where you live. How? 

The police? Would they do anything? Would they believe you? You just deleted the evidence. 

He’s bluffing right. He just wanted more money. You’re not stupid. Come on. You are a wallet to him, nothing more. You’re not naive enough to think he enjoyed it any more than you did. It’s business to him. He did his job and he got a pretty penny. If you could get that much for a few hours, you’d be hustling too. 

It’s just a poor attempt at blackmail. A hail mary for any extra pay check. Too bad for him, you don’t have that type of money. You already splurge on regret. 

You’ll keep an eye over your shoulder but you really doubt it’s anything more than greed. He must have a dozen clients. Hm... that thought doesn't make feel you better. You don’t know that you’ll ever really feel good again. Did you ever before? 

📱

“I know it’s cliche but I told you, I’m not exactly the creative type,” you settle in at the table and look through the cafe window. 

“I told you, I trust your judgment. And can’t go wrong with coffee,” Curtis says. 

“Guess not, but I’ve had some shitty coffee in my day.” 

His cheek dimples and he tilts his head in agreement, “me too. I’m not some coffee snob but some of the water they serve around town.” 

“You’re talking about Smokey’s, right? They serve ash-flavoured piss. Oh, sorry, I...” you give a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.” 

“You’re right though,” he snorts. 

“Ha, thanks. Mila disagrees. She keeps trying to convert me.” 

“Sounds like Jensen but with those acid energy drinks. I told him, he’s going to have a heart attack.” 

“Ew, those things are worse. It’s like someone made mountain dew worse.” 

He chuckles. That doesn’t happen often. “Wow, I should bring you in as backup. Then he might actually listen.” 

The barista comes with your drinks and you thank her. You ordered a tea latte, not your usual fare. Curtis eyes it as he cradles his cup of dark roast between his large hands. 

“I’m not much of a tea person but that looks interesting.” 

“London Fog. Just very foamy Earl Gray,” you explain. 

“Ah,” he nods thoughtfully. Your bag vibrates and you elbow it back on your hip. Not right now, Mila. “Not to be socially awkward but you like horror movies?” 

“I like them but they still scare me,” you say. 

“Really? Something actually scares you?” 

“What do you mean?” You scoff. 

He stares at you. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know... what?” 

“You’re terrifyingly hard to read,” he says. “You’re so lock and key that it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. Easy to assume you want to scoop my guts out with a plastic spoon.” 

“I’m not much for slashers, I’m more into psychological scares,” you counter then catch yourself. You smile. “Sorry. I’m not... you know, I can be a bitch but I’m not really one.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.” 

“I know, I just don’t know how else to say... if I look at you like a rabid dog, I swear, I’m just thinking.” 

“Yeah, Jensen says I have RBF too.” 

“RBF?” You wonder. 

“Resting Bitch Face, although he started calling it Raging Curt Face.” 

You laugh. He does too. The last bit of ice melts away. 

“I’m on a roll today,” he says. “So I may as well ask, wanna come over and watch scary movies?” 

🍿

The mood is set. The curtains are drawn to darken the room and the television glows as the only source of light in the space. Not much of a beacon as the images on the screen remain in shadow as the grinding soundtrack drones from the speakers.

You sit on the couch, enthralled by the manic horror of the character’s shallow breaths. 

You jerk as something brushes over your shoulder. You quickly still yourself as you realise what it is. Curtis stretches his arm over your shoulders. 

“Scared yet?” He asks. 

You giggle, “only a little.” 

He stays close and you don’t push him away. It’s such a weird feeling. To have someone in your space but you don’t mind it. To be honest, it’s comforting. 

You stare at the screen as the tension builds. As a loud noise frightens you, you jolt and lean into Curtis. He curls his arm snug around you. Then the next startling twist comes and you turn your face into his shoulder. 

“You didn’t say you were a baby,” he teases. 

“Oh, hush,” you speak into his shirt. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he grits and brings his hand up under your chin. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.” 

You glower up at him and he sighs, “don’t look at me like that.” 

“How can you tell how I’m looking at you?” 

“I can feel it,” his thumb rubs your chin and he leans closer. 

You swallow as he keeps coming. You don’t stop him. You’re stuck. Your body won’t answer the screaming in your head. He presses his lips to yours and you let out a soft noise. He presses his mouth against yours for a moment then pulls away. 

He’s quiet as you puff you, your heart racing. “Was that okay?” 

You cough, “uh, yeah... sorry, I... I’m surprised.” 

“Can I do it again?” He asks. 

You quiver and nod, “sure.” 

He kisses you again. This time his tongue traces the crease of your lips. You open to him, unsure what you’re supposed to do. He delves within as he cradles your head and squeezes you closer. 

A warmth creeps up your body. Cozy at first. Intoxicating either. But it keeps burning. Hotter and hotter as his hand slithers down your back. His groan triggers a tickle in your brain and nearly bite down.  

You touch Curtis’ chest and urge him away. He reluctantly parts and slackens his hold on you. You stand up without a word. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

“I need your bathroom. Sorry.” 

You hurry away, staggering through the dark, and close the bathroom door behind you. You flip the light on and stomp to the tub, sitting on the porcelain as you drop your head into your hands. What the fuck? What is wrong with you? 

That wasn’t bad. It was great. You were getting somewhere. You were having a normal experience. It’s like you just can’t let yourself win. 

You smack your cheek, then your other. You do it a few more times before you sit up straight. God! What a disaster. What a stupid woman you are. You can’t even blame anyone but yourself. You did this to yourself. 

You ran away from Curtis. You came in here to mope. And you hired Hugh. 

No, don’t-- that’s not relevant. You’re forgetting that. It didn’t happen. You’re trying to move on. You can move on. Curtis doesn’t have to be your penance; he can be your antidote. 

There’s a knock at the door. You stare at the wood. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” Curtis asks. 

“Yep.” You call back. 

“I’m sorry if... if that was too much. If I went too fast,” he says. 

You huff and stand. You drag your feet to the door. You make yourself open it and face him. He turned the lights on. You ruined the night. 

“I think maybe I should just go. I’m sorry I spoiled the movie,” you say. He doesn’t move. 

“What? I paused it. It’s fine. We can finish it.” 

“No, Curtis, I’m just... I keep... aren’t you tired of me yet?” 

He shakes his head, “no, are you tired of me?” 

You clamp your lips and pop them in exasperation. “No.” That makes this harder. Because you aren’t tired of him. Because you do like him. 

“So why are you running away?” 

He grips the door frame. He’s a big man. He doesn’t have to let you leave but you know if you say you want to go, he will. For a moment, his size reminds you of another person. One who didn’t listen. One who didn’t hear your 'stop'. 

“This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to be honest otherwise you’ll just think I'm insane,” you throw your hands up. “I’ve never, uh, never... had... someone before. You know? Never been on any dates, er, until you.” 

He nods and his expression stays the same, “alright.” 

“So yeah...” 

He narrows his eyes, “is that it?” 

You stare at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.” 

“I don’t care about that. I care about us, you know? About right now. So then or whenever, it’s not important. But right now I can be patient. I can take it slow.” He drops his hand from the frame. “We can just watch the movie. That’s it.” 

You look down and slump, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he gently touches your arm. “I don’t want you to be sorry because you did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me.” 

You don’t say anything else. You’re too mortified to muster more than a grumble. You reach for the light switch but he stands as a wall between you and escape. 

“One more thing though,” he says, “I’m not just someone. I'm your boyfriend.” 

You falter and clasp your hands in front of your stomach, “boyfriend?” 

He smiles, “I can wait for my girl. That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” 

He offers his hand and you consider it as your lips curve without a thought.  You accept the offer and latch onto his large hand.  

“Guess I’ll find out,” you say.” 

[cruel-seduction]

James Potter as Your Boyfriend

a/n - I am listening to my romantic playlist on repeat so it might be more cheesy than I intend it to be.

(୨୧) That Infuriatingly Perfect HairJames Potter is the guy who knows his hair is a mess and somehow still uses it as his primary flirting tactic. (Like, sir, did you actually think ruffling your hair would make me swoon? … Okay, maybe a little.) He smirks every time you roll your eyes at him doing it, but the kicker is when you catch him fixing it in a reflection right before seeing you. “Gotta look sharp for my girl,” he says with a wink. (Spoiler: he does not, in fact, look sharp, but you love it anyway.)

(୨୧) The Walking Ego (Who’s Secretly a Softie)He loves to show off in front of you, especially on the Quidditch field. He’ll pull stunts, grinning like he’s the coolest guy in the world, just to hear you cheer his name. (Never mind that he almost fell off his broom that one time; we don’t talk about that.) But when it’s just the two of you, his cocky demeanor drops, and he’s all shy smiles and quiet, “Did you really think I was good out there? Or are you just saying that because you love me?” cue him melting when you reassure him.

(୨୧) His Endless Need for Validation

James is the guy who constantly asks, “Did you see that?!” anytime he does anything remotely impressive, even if it’s just catching a piece of parchment midair. (You could be reading, and he’ll yell, “Love, LOOK!” before performing some ridiculous stunt). He’s a golden retriever in human form, and if you don’t immediately cheer for him, he’ll sulk until you give him a kiss. (You love it, though. Admit it).

(୨୧) His Terrible Jealousy

James acts like he’s the most confident guy alive, but the second someone flirts with you, his ears turn red, and he starts loudly talking about how amazing his girlfriend is. (You: “Subtle, Potter.” Him: “Not subtle, James Potter.”) If you so much as laugh at someone else’s joke, he’ll spend the next hour sulking until you kiss him and say, “No one compares to my idiot.” (He perks up immediately, naturally.)

(୨୧) The Chaotic Pillow Talk

James is that boyfriend who talks nonsense when you’re lying in bed together. One moment, he’s whispering sweet nothings like, “You’re my entire world,” and the next, he’s like, “Do you think Sirius could charm his hair to look like yours? Because I think about it a lot.” (You: “What the actual fuck?” Him: “I’m serious.”) Somehow, you love him more for it.

(୨୧) The Unintentional PDAJames isn’t subtle. At all. He’s the guy who’ll grab your hand in the middle of class, lean over, and whisper, “You look really pretty today,” loud enough for everyone—including Professor McGonagall—to hear. (You’re mortified; he’s grinning like a cat that got the cream.) And when you try to scold him later, he just shrugs and says, “What? I’m not gonna hide how I feel. Everyone should know you’re mine.”

(୨୧) The Emotional ProtectorJames may be a reckless Gryffindor, but when it comes to your emotional well-being, he’s shockingly thoughtful. If you’re upset, he’s the first to notice, even if you try to hide it. He’ll pull you into a quiet corner and say, “What’s wrong, love? You know you can tell me anything.” And if you cry? Oh, this man will hold you so tightly it’s like he’s trying to shield you from the entire world. (He definitely whispers, “I’ve got you, always,” like it’s a solemn vow.)

(୨୧) The Ride-or-Die RomanticJames Potter is the kind of boyfriend who makes you feel like you’re his entire world. He’s got that intense Gryffindor loyalty, and once he’s in love, there’s no turning back. He’ll write you corny notes like, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I’m including winning the House Cup in that list.” (They’re signed with little doodles of a stag and a heart because he’s the absolute worst.)

(୨୧) The Over-the-Top Romantic Gestures

He’ll do big, stupidly romantic things, like charming the stars in the Astronomy Tower to spell out your name (Sirius: “You’re disgusting, mate.” James: “Shut it, Pads, she’s the one”). But he’s also the type to leave little notes in your books, like “Marry me?” and “You’re the sexiest witch alive.” (You’ve found many letters in Hogwarts, A History. Yes, you kept them all.)

(୨୧) The Unexpected Vulnerability

Despite all his confidence, James has quiet moments when he doubts if he’s enough for you. “You could have anyone,” he’ll say softly, tracing patterns on your arm. (His voice cracks, and your heart aches). You always pull him close, reminding him that he’s more than enough, and he’ll smile in that shy, boyish way that makes your chest warm. (You: “You’re my James.” Him: “Always.”)

(୨୧) The King of Over-the-Top Gestures

James doesn’t just love you; he worships you. He’s the guy who’ll book out the entirety of Madam Puddifoot’s just to have a private date (you: “James, this is ridiculous.” him: “Ridiculously romantic, you mean”). But he’ll also sit with you on the Quidditch stands, freezing his arse off, just because he knows you like watching the stars after a match.

(୨୧) The Secret Softie

Yes, he’s cocky. But when it comes to you? This man melts. You mention being tired? Suddenly there’s a hot cup of tea waiting for you in the common room. (You: “How’d you know?” Him: “I’m James Potter. I know everything.”) He’d deny it if anyone else asked, but he lives to see you smile. His whole demeanor changes when it’s just the two of you—less bravado, more tenderness. (If you catch him staring at you all lovesick, just know he’s planning your wedding in his head.)

(୨୧) The “I’m Your Biggest Cheerleader” Energy

James will hype you up like his life depends on it. Got an essay due? “No problem, love, you’ve got this!” Need help with a spell? He’ll spend hours practicing with you until you nail it. And when you do, he’s out here clapping like you just won the Quidditch Cup. (Sirius: “Mate, chill, it’s a summoning charm.” James: “IT’S A BIG DEAL, PADFOOT.”) You can’t even be annoyed because the way he beams at you makes your heart flutter every damn time.

(୨୧) The Ego and the Heart to Match

James knows he’s hot—and he’ll never let you forget it. (You: “You’re insufferable.” Him: “You mean irresistible.”) But here’s the kicker: despite his cockiness, he’s never made you feel less than cherished. He’s the type to blow off quidditch practice just to study with you for your OWLs, or charm your quill to write faster when he sees you stressing. (You didn’t even ask. He just noticed.) He may act like the world revolves around him, but you’re the sun he orbits.

(୨୧) The Bravado

This man will not shut up about how good he is at everything—Quidditch, hexes, kissing you senseless against a bookshelf. And the worst part? He’s not wrong. (You: “Cocky much?” Him: “Confident, sweetheart. There’s a difference.”) But then there’s the unexpected softness, like when he presses his forehead against yours after, whispering, “You’re all I’ll ever want.” It’s the mix of arrogance and vulnerability that leaves you completely undone every time. (Yes, you’re ruined. No, you’re not mad about it.)

(୨୧) The “I’d Die for You” Loyalty

James would go to the ends of the earth for you—and you know it. He’s reckless when it comes to protecting you, stepping in front of danger without a second thought. (You: “Stop being so stupidly brave!” Him: “I can’t help it; it’s in the Potter genes. Do you want your kids to have these genes??”) Even in his most infuriating moments, you can’t deny how deeply he loves you. He’s yours, completely and irrevocably, and Merlin, does it feel good to be loved by James Potter.

[kibbles-bits]

Happy New Year🥳🍾🎉🎆 Heaven's Best AU what kind celebration everyone did! I am even curious what kind improvement Winner!Vox did for Heaven!?

What Vox does in Heaven is touched upon here.

"...media entertainment, news, organizing public events and he has a finger in the development of new technology. He’s involved in most things that make people happy and content in Heaven."

So that answers that question! Below? More yapping that expands on it!

Vox is very insecure about his place in Heaven, though by the time Heaven's Best starts, that feeling has been repressed and he's spent the last 50ish years making sure that the reason he is Different from everyone is because he is Better than everyone else. An idea that Emily unknowingly enables by supporting his ideas since she has complete faith in his Goodness and placement in Heaven.

It's that drive to be Better that makes him want to improve Heaven. Because improving perfection is the most impressive thing he can think of doing. So he gets involved in as many things as he can.

The first thing he gets control of is communications. He charms his way into radio and television until he's the one in charge of the biggest networks. He uses that to bolster other events or activities he's managing until his events are the only ones that get attention. Other Winners managing events come to him to ask him to advertise their projects and... of course he does! He's such a nice guy, after all. But perhaps it'd be easier if you add his name to those projects you're advertising, after all, everyone knows Vox now... Of course, he wouldn't want his name on it if he didn't contribute something. Say, how about you let him provide input on your projects too? He'd really be part of the team, then!

One very specific thing he does to support every individual in Heaven is interview them.

Vox puts every new Winner at the same level almost the same day they arrive. He collects all of the information he can, interviews them, and compiles it all into a profile piece to be shown on the appropriate channels of Heaven. He gives them all the same level of Hype, no matter what it is they did in life.

None of them are special.

(None of them are better than him.)

And this isn't bad! Look at him, treating everyone equally! Making them all feel at home and amongst peers! Even the smallest deed deserves the biggest of praise! Your jobs are done! You are in paradise! Reap your rewards that Vox so generously supplies to you.

Er, well, that Vox, the Seraphim and the Archangels supply to you.

And isn't that impressive? Vox is friends with a Seraphim, Emily.

The biggest advantage Vox has over any other Winner is his bond with Emily, one of the Seraphim who took a personal interest in him and his attempts to make everything in Heaven better. Emily's job is to make sure all the Winners in Heaven are Happy and Vox is eager to work alongside her with that.

Emily and Vox. Vox and Emily. Everyone knows they're friends. Why would anyone question the judgement of a Seraphim? Not that anyone can really pinpoint exactly what might be off about Vox. He's never done anything bad. All he's ever wanted to do is contribute and make things better for everyone. Make everyone happy, just like Emily... right? Who were they to stand in the way of him helping her?

Though, one questionable way he helps her is through surveillance...

He once suggested to Emily that they have cameras installed to help keep track of everyone's happiness. Emily agreed, assuming he just meant in public event spaces, and Vox uses that as blanket permission to put cameras... well... everywhere. And woops now he knows everything about everyone! Very convenient for data collection but it's okay since he's using the information to make Heaven better! He loves giving answers to Emily when she isn't sure why a Winner isn't happy.

She does think its strange that he knows so much about people when she never really sees him socialize, but maybe its a human thing...

Heaven is sooo improved, guys.

(Read the Heaven’s Best AU HERE)

[flutterbyoz]

It always surprises me, or maybe it doesn't given what the general TWD fandom can be like, that people are using the fact that The Ones Who Live is a love story as a reason to criticise the show.

The fact it is a love story was never hidden, it was never a secret or kept as a surprise, it's what the show was repeatedly promoted and advertised as. Andy, Danai and Scott never misled anyone into thinking it was going to be anything else, they were quite clear and pointed out that TOWL would be a love story every chance they got. So if someone saw any of the promo, interviews etc whether online or on TV and were going into this show expecting something else then I don't really know what to say other than they probably should have paid more attention.

The show was not aimed at or made for people who hate Richonne. I get that not everyone is a Richonne fan, to each their own for the most part, but when you watch their spin off, what else are you expecting other than a love story? Especially with Andy and Danai at the helm, it seems some people really don't understand the characters at all.

I know some people tuned in just to see what happened to Rick and that's great, the show isn't solely for Richonners but if the love story with his wife and love of his life annoys you so much that you can't continue watching your fave in their spin off and the feel the need to announce that you quit half way through then not only do I have to wonder why you hate their relationship so much but also say that you're purposefully ignoring a huge part of who Rick is and why he does what he does. I don't think you can fully understand and know Rick without his relationship with Michonne and how his love for her and hers for him shapes him into the man he is today. Without Michonne, Rick is a shell of himself, she is his entire world, she and their kids are his reason for everything so you're not going to get a Rick story without Michonne, because without Michonne there isn't really a Rick.

Had this been Rick and Daryl instead of Rick and Michonne, had they been the ones with the emotional scenes I can pretty much guarantee a large majority of the people who complained about Rick and Michonne would have no problem with Rick and Daryl. It's what a lot of them have been calling for since Rick was taken not to mention the people who are bitter that Richonne gets everything they have wanted for their ship for years.

Attacking a show because it is what it was promoted as and did exactly what it set out to do is more than a little bizarre to me but I suppose it's just another way to criticise and disregard Rick and Michonne's relationship and diminish Michonne's importance.

I know, if we see Richonne again, it's going to be another love story and those who complained before will most likely complain again but only one spin off has been the most successful, a hit for the franchise and for AMC, included on numerous best of lists, gained Emmy buzz, received overwhelmingly positive reviews from critics and fans alike, has multiple Saturn award nominations and given this franchise a new lease of life. I find it strange to watch a show knowing full well you're only doing so to find something to complain about and though those viewers are just a small percentage of TOWLs overall viewers they did the exact opposite of what they wanted to do. Instead of bringing the show down they're just raising it up even higher!

Nothing will stop this ship, everyone wants a piece of them, they draw everyone in even those who say they don't care or even like them together and that's the power or Richonne!

[katzirrart]

Sometimes the girlies judge you for fumbling with your girlfriend njkfgh

fucking njkgh Shadowheart just wants the moping vampire out of her home.... I love that my first doodle of Shadowheart is the GRUMBLIEST GIRL.

CONTEXT:

I think a lot about time when it comes to ships, and that doesn't stop at this one :u

Literally it's like... over a few months that BG3 takes place? The timeline MAKES SENSE, but is also insane by in game time, omg. And I've thought a lot about how like... idk, Ophira had time after Zerxie to kinda just be herself outside anyone else and figure SOME stuff out.

But Astarion kinda makes me sad a lot, because he's never really... just himself. Singular in a way, if you romance him. He's a magistrate and who knows how that life was before Cazador, but past that... he's just kinda an additional piece to people. You can help him kinda get his bearings in the world, and figure out what freedom and all that looks like to him, but he's still never like... on his own.

It's the old wife who never knows life outside marriage thing? Something my mom talked a lot about when I was a teen. Lamenting she never knew life to figure herself out.

So it's kinda a thought to me that at some point maybe they take a break for a year or so, let him figure some shit out, let her figure some shit out. They're both kinda messes in their own ways, and it's like ya'know. IT'S NOT LIKE COUPLES DON'T DO THAT SOMETIMES. But I think it'd do some good. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that unu

But the idea of him ending up at Shadowheart's house either in the beginning or towards the end of the period because Ophira was like "She might be a good friend to talk to about this kinda thing, given her own shit, man." [also because like bb boy and bb sparkle girl were my two closest companions and Shads is BB SISTER MATERIAL TO ME] but she's so hilariously mean and blunt to him in the overworld....

I can just see her giving him so much shit. But also him whining about the situation or something, and getting the girls on his case about it jndgkh

Lae'zel only knowing part of the issue and being like "Where is she, did you fuck things up? How could you disgusting idiots fuck this up..." but the also additional mental image of him showing up alone and Shads being like "Alright.... where's the one I like though? Why isn't she with you?" as a joke njfkgh

EVERYTHING TURNS OUT FINE. EVERYONE IS HAPPY, AND IT'S FUNNY HOW MUCH THEY BOTH MISS EACHOTHER THO TO ME.

[theocddiaries]

Sonic: Hey, hey, Trivial is a game from this world. And who’s been in this world the longest, not counting you, mustachioed guy? That’s right, me. Tails: With all due respect, Sonic, Trivial has more categories than just movies and entertainment. Sonic: Well, Tails I wasn't saying anything bad about you, buddy. You’re somewhat good. Tails: … Somewhat good? Somewhat? Oh! Pride comes before the fall, Sonic. Sonic: And humility never goes out of style. I’m the one who taught you everything. Where have you ever seen a student surpass their master? Knuckles: Wait, have we already started playing? Sonic [gets up and returns with the board and pieces]: No. Now we’re starting to play. [to Tails]: You’re about to learn a lesson. Robotnik: Yes, that's the spirit! We’re going to wipe the floor with you, fox! Sonic: Hey! He’s still my little brother, and I love him, okay? Tails: That’s right, Sonic, [leans in menacingly]: keep loving me lots! That’s your greatest weakness! Robotnik: That’s what I always tell him. Clearly, we’re kindred spirits. Amy: …So, are we playing clockwise? Robotnik: Perfect. Where’s the die…? Sonic: No, no, give the die to me. Rolling it is too much responsibility. [rolls the die]: Let’s see… your question is Arts and Literature. What was the pen name of Samuel Langhorne Clemens? Tails: Mark Twain. Sonic [through gritted teeth]: Yeah, correct. Tails: Take that! My turn! Amy: But based on how we’re sitting, it’s-- Tails [consumed by rivalry, grabs a card]: History. Year of the fall of the Roman Empire. Sonic: 476 AD. Tails: Damn you! Sonic: See? Don’t say I don’t listen when you go on about your books ever again! Hand me the die! Amy: But Knuckles and I— Knuckles: Shut up, Amy. That way we don’t lose points. We’ll win without doing anything! Amy: … [Sonic and Tails continue asking and answering, ignoring the others] Tails: Capital of Portugal? Sonic: Lisbon. What was the first feature-length talking movie with sound? Tails: The Jazz Singer. The Baseball Hall of Fame is located in which city? Sonic: Cooperstown. Dihydrogen monoxide is a chemical name for what substance? Tails: Water! Michael Myers is the villain of which horror movie franchise? Sonic: Halloween. The Orca is also known as what? Tails: Killer whale! [Some time later, both are gasping. Tails grabs a card] Tails: Final question. If you get it right, you win. If not, you’ll prove my theory of your intellectual inferiority. No pressure. Sonic: Shoot! Tails: Name the father of evolutionary psychology. Sonic: It’s… Oh… Tails: Oh? Oh what? Sonic: I… I don’t know it. Tails: Oh, you don’t know it? Aww, and the last question too, what a shame… Sonic: Hmm, I’ll guess it… Jean Piaget! Tails: What!? How the hell do you know that!? Sonic: Because Maddie has books by that guy all over the house! And look, even though he wouldn’t agree with this… nah-nah-nah! I won! I won! …Wait, where is everyone? [Sonic and Tails look around to see empty chairs. At the next table, the group is playing Operation]

Part 1

Part 3

[sakuraszn]

ⵌ ECHOES OF WHAT COULD BE !

ft. Izuku midoriya x fem. reader

synopsis. Izuku quietly harbors feelings for someone he knows he can never have. He watches from the sidelines, silently suffering as his heart breaks piece by piece, helplessly observing his friend fall for someone else.

cw. sfw content upcoming!! ┊angst ┊unrequited love┊unspoken feelings┊this takes place during highschool.

nia’s notes. I haven’t wrote in forever..I highkey missed it soo I’m back n ready to come out with a bunch of content for u guys! I got inspiration from a song called: girl by the internet. 0.9k words.

Izuku Midoriya had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was gentle, his spirit was kind, and his dreams vast. But, despite those wonderful qualities that he has there was one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do: confess his love to the person he loved the most.

when it came to his feelings for you, he kept them locked away, buried deep within the confines of his heart. The dreams of becoming a great hero and harvesting the power of one for all were already a monumental task, and adding the complexities of love to his already chaotic life seemed like an insuperable challenge. So, he chose to keep his feelings at bay when the time was right.

you must be wondering how his feelings started for you, yeah? well, it all started during the second year at UA high school.

By then, you and Izuku had become among the closest of friends, like two sides of a coin, always together. Anywhere he went, you were right by his side, and vice versa.

Izuku has always admired your inspiration to help others even when it’s not needed.

Your presence had a way of lighting up a room, and your devoted attitude knew no bounds. All those things about you just had him in a chokehold and lured him to you like a cartoon character flying in the air for pie. He often grappled with the question: why couldn’t he muster the courage to confess his true feelings for you? It was a struggle he faced daily, a quiet battle that kept him awake at night. Each time he thought about disclosing his heart, fear crept in, wrapping around him like an unshakeable cloud.

Instead, he chose to remain in the background, silently observing as you drew closer to Shoto Todoroki, the charming boy who seemed to effortlessly grab the attention of everyone in the class.

Izuku couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy stirred within him lately every time he saw you and shoto together. You two were always laughing, sharing inside jokes, and supporting each other in ways that made Izuku's heartache. he could see the way your beautiful eyes sparkled when you looked at shoto, the way you would easily get flushed whenever he was near. It was clear to everyone, including Izuku, that you, y/n, had fallen for shoto.

Weeks dragged on, and the interactions between Izuku and you widened painfully. He still crossed your path often, still fought beside you in battles that demanded trust and unity, but the ease of your conversations had vanished. Laughter that once echoed between you now felt forced, awkward—a fragile reminder of what used to be.

One evening, the sky bled crimson as the sun dipped below the horizon. You stumbled upon him outside the dormitories, alone and consumed by his relentless training. His kicks sliced through the air with a desperation that mirrored the turmoil in your heart. It was as if the rhythmic motions were a futile attempt to keep the ghosts of your shared moments at bay. You stood in the shadows, unsure whether to approach or linger in the silence that had grown so thick between you.

“Deku,” you said softly. “Can we talk?”

He glanced up, jolted by your sudden approach, the gravity in your voice catching him off guard.

“Of course.”

You stood there hesitantly with your hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of your skirt. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s about Todoroki.”

Izuku’s heart sank quickly. He nodded, bracing himself for the knowing words that were about to come out of your mouth.

“I… I think I like him,” she admitted, your cheeks tinged with warmness. “I’m not sure how he feels, but I wanted to tell you because… well, you’re my closest friend, and I value your opinion.” The words hung heavy in the air, and Izuku felt like someone plunged him with a knife and twist it in his stomach.

Izuku forced a smile, but inside, a storm raged. “That’s great, y/n. Todoroki’s a great guy.” Each word felt like a dagger, carving into his chest as he fought to maintain his composure.

“You think so?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for the reassurance she desperately wanted, unaware of the uneasiness brewing beneath his calm surface.

“Yeah.” The word slipped out, almost a whisper, his voice trembling just enough to betray the shambles within. “I think you’d make a great couple.”

The weight of her smile hit him like a shipment train, a bittersweet wave of comfort washing over her while he stood there, drowning in his own heartache. “Thanks, Deku. That means a lot.” Her gratitude pierced through him, leaving an aching void where hope once flickered, a crushing reminder of what could never be.

As you walked away, exchanging bittersweet goodbyes, Izuku let out a shaky breath, his hand pressing against his chest, overwhelmed by an aching nothingness. The words he desperately wanted to say felt heavy and trapped in his throat, swallowed by a paralyzing fear that gnawed at his heart. A deep sense of regret washed over him as he watched her figure recede into the distance, every step pulling her further away from him. He couldn't shake the painful thought that if he had only conjured the courage to confess his feelings sooner, maybe, just maybe, things could have been different.

He also understood that some things were better left unsaid. As he gazed up at the now dark sky, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the moments lost to silence.

©sakuraszn! xoxo

[hunterofartemis7]

After Odysseus left for war, Penelope kept all his clothes, capes, jewelry etc tucked safely away in the closet for when he returned. She allowed no one touch them, not even herself really, that was until Telemachus found them. She left Telemachus alone with one of the maid, who was Athena in disguise, while she went to handle queen stuff. She came back a few hours later to find her son hiding under one of his fathers capes, and wearing one of his tops that was way to big for the baby. The young princess also somehow managed to get a hold of his father’s jewelry which he was both wearing, and trying to eat.

Penelope was of course confused as to how her infant son even got into a locked closet until she saw Athena trying not to laugh her head off.

“I’m sorry,” the goddess laughed, “he kept trying to get in the closet and I can’t say no to his little wolf eyes.”

Penelope wanted to be angry at her husbands mentor, but couldn’t when she saw how cute her son looked. She smiled and picked him up off the floor. “You’ll grow into them someday my son.”

“I can make small version of Odysseus clothes for Telemachus if you want. Just until he grows into them.” Athena offered, picking some of the random clothes off the floor.

“You just want an excuse to make my son small outfits.”

“Guilty.” The goddess smiled. “But I’m not hearing a no.”

The queen submitted and agreed to let Athena make smaller versions of her husband clothes for her son. She can’t say she didn’t hate it. Penelope liked seeing Telemachus crawling around like a small copy of Odysseus. As years went on, Athena continued to do this for Telemachus, while occasionally clipping a piece of Odysseus jewelry to his shirt or cape. Penelope loved seeing how exited Telemachus would get when his grandmother or aunt said he looked just like his father. He’d run around the place pretending to fight a boar like his father, getting a laugh out of the guards who saw him. Telemachus even convinced his mom to cut his hair like his father for a while. But as 10 years turns to 15, to 20, Telemachus had actually grown into Odysseus clothes and had no reason to have copies made anymore. He did it to feel closer to his father, and hoped he wouldn’t be mad when he came home. The suitors were the first to make a bad comment about it. They teased him from wanting to look like a knock off Odysseus, or for dressing like the man who abandoned him.

One real bad experience with Antonius made him want to stop wearing them all together, but Athena encouraged him to ignore what those other men were saying and wear them anyway. He was honoring his father by wearing the clothes. So he kept at it. When Odysseus was finally home, he didn’t immediately notice his son was wearing his clothes, just that his armor resembled Athena. Actually he barely noticed that until late at night once everyone was asleep and he was replaying the memories in his head. It wasn’t till the next morning after he had taken a bath that Odysseus went to his closet and found all his old clothes had disappeared, minus a few that were to big for him.

“Hey Penelope, did you hide my clothes somewhere?” He asked “I mean I don’t mind walking around nude in front of you, but I’d rather not traumatize our son.”

Penelope had a good idea where they were, but was gonna let her husband figure it out. “No, I always kept them in there.”

“Huh.” Odysseus there confused for a moment before grabbing one of the oversized garments from the his wardrobe. “Well this’ll work for now till I figure this out.”

Penelope held back from laughing, “this is going to be a fun morning.” She thought to herself.

“Well if you’re ready, we should head down to breakfast.” Penelope held her hand out for her husband. “Don’t want to miss your first real meal with your son.”

Meanwhile, Telemachus was getting ready in his chamber. He had snatched on of his father garments, jewelry, belt and sword holster. He’d already be out the door if Athena, (who had been staying with the royal family since his diplomatic mission) would quit fussing with his hair. “Athena knock it off!” He groaned trying to pull his head away.

“Once I get it out of your face I will, now hold still!” She snapped, making him face forward.

“Did you do this to dad?”

“When we were training yes.” She answered, cutting Telemachus hair out of his face. “Until he learned to put it up himself.”

“Okay okay okay!” He got up and shook the hair off him.

“Why do I even try?” Athena signed setting the scissors down. “You should head out now. Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked her.

Athena shook her head, “go on ahead without me, I’ll be there in a minute.”

The young prince nodded and ran out to the dining room to meet up with his parents. He ran in there and plopped down beside Odysseus, who had just figured out where all his clothes had gone. “Morning father!” He said brightly.

“Morning.” Odysseus replied looking at his son’s clothes. Penelope was across from Telemachus, trying not to laugh at her husband who was trying to find the right words to address this. Telemachus noticed both the strange smiles on his parents faces and got confused. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing. Just surprised my old wardrobe fits you.”

Telemachus was a bit confused by the comments until he remembered that he was in fact wearing his father’s clothes. The boys face turned bright red with embarrassment and he practically shot out of his seat, apologizing over and over again to his father and saying his go change. Odysseus grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat.

“My son you have no reason to apologize.” The old king said patting his son on the back. “Im glad to see you have my same taste in style.” Telemachus buried his face in his hands at his father’s teasing.

“He actually started wearing them to be closer to you.” Penelope told her husband whose face lit up in awe.

“Awwwww really?” Odysseus beamed, putting an arm around his son. “That’s really sweet my boy.” Telemachus buried his head in his father’s hair, his face beat red with embarrassment. It didn’t help when Odyssues made the comment about needing a whole new wardrobe since it seemed a little owl had nicked his. “So is this a new thing or?” Odyssues began to ask.

“No, he’s done this since you left for Troy.” His wife answered, which surprised Odysseus.

“Really?” The king asked, “that long?”

“Yeah. He managed to get a few of your things from your closet, well, Athena unlocked it and let him go nuts.” The Queen explained. “And both her and I made smaller versions of your closet until he grew into your normal ones.”

“Ofc Athena had an hand in this.” Odysseus thought to himself. “Please tell me you kept those, cause I would love to see them.”

“Ofc I did.” She smiled.

“Yes!” Odysseus cheered.

Penelope smiled at her boys. Odysseus who was very excited and Telemachus who was an embarrassed mess. “You two are so cute.”

@platinumink